


A Little Slice of Hell

by AnonManon



Category: Real Person Fiction, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018), The Eric Andre Show
Genre: Body Horror, Comedians, Comedy, Embedded Audio, Episode: s03e06 The Portal, F/F, Gen, Good Will Hunting Reference, Inappropriate Humor, Mid-Canon, Multi-Format, Not Beta Read, Post-Episode: s03e06 The Portal, Purple Prose, RPF, Screenplay/Script Format, Surrealist Humor, adult swim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonManon/pseuds/AnonManon
Summary: Eric André and Hannibal Burress interview the ejected residents of She-Ra's Portalverse.This is gonna go well.(Set during "The Portal" for SPOP, pre Season 5 for The Eric André Show)
Relationships: Adora & Glimmer (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Glimmer (She-Ra), Angella & Glimmer (She-Ra), Angella (She-Ra) & Eric Andre, Angella (She-Ra) & Hannibal Burress, Angella/Micah (She-Ra), Eric Andre & Adora (She-Ra), Eric Andre & Catra (She-Ra), Eric Andre & Glimmer (She-Ra), Eric Andre & Hannibal Burress, Hannibal Burress & Catra (She-Ra), Hannibal Burress & Lonnie (She-Ra), Lonnie & Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. Intro & Monologue

[ “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, _IT’S THE ERIC ANDRÉ SHOOOOOW!_ ” ](https://soundcloud.com/mblossier/happy-happening)

Our screaming host, Eric André, (Aries, former Floridian) launches himself headlong into the square that hangs above the guest chair, shattering it on impact. The band plays on, unheeding of the wanton destruction even as Eric pounces upon their drummer and sends them both flying back into the curtain. The toppled drumset is replaced with a spare as our grey suited Tasmanian Devil wreaks havoc upon the space around him.

A tall, stocky woman with claws for hands is launched headlong into the bookcase. It collapses on top of her.

The woman pushes herself to her feet, taking in the chaos with a look of abject fear.

Eric briefly stops shredding his desk with a jackhammer and glances towards the spot. “Oh, hey, Scorpia’s in the house tonight!”

“ ** _WHAT IS GOING ON?!_ **” She screams to no one in particular.

“BREAK SOMETHING,” the host loudly demands.

Scorpia overturns the guest chair with a frenzied cry and starts running rampant about the set. Through sheer happenstance, she collides with the second surprise guest of the evening -- Lonnie -- taking them both to the floor.

“Scorpia?” Lonnie asks, the wind knocked out of her. Scorpia’s eyes widens and she stands up, brushing herself off and offering a claw, which Lonnie takes.

“How’d you get here?” Lonnie shouts over the ear splitting din of brass and drums, eyes darting around the studio. “Where is here?!”

Scorpia shakes her head and brings Lonnie into a bear hug. “I don’t know! But I’m really glad I ran into you!”

The band abruptly stops and [a slow piano melody takes its place](https://soundcloud.com/user-433954817/a-wonderful-lie-finn-mk-cover). Off to the side, an old Asian stagehand observed the scene playing out in front of him with a single tear running down his cheek. Eric, having removed his shirt some time prior, walks over and joins the hug, wrapping his arms around Scorpia’s waist and leaning in. Scorpia cringes slightly from the squish of lubricant against her back.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Eric whispers.

[ With inhuman strength, Eric pushes them both behind the curtain and runs off, screaming. ](https://soundcloud.com/mblossier/happy-happening#t=2:13)

The band finishes up just as Eric, weary, collapses into his rolling desk chair -- the only thing left standing at this point -- and the set is reborn thanks to the efforts of overworked and underpaid stagehands. Before long, everything is as it once was.

From stage right, the curtains flutter open to reveal our cohost, Hannibal Burress (Aquarius, Chicago native). He leisurely strolls to the guest chair under the watchful gaze of Michaelangelo’s David, checking his emails to see if there is, perhaps, an opportunity to escape this hellish place. Alas, the inbox is empty, so he completes the journey and takes his seat upon his cushy throne.

Eric and Hannibal gaze upon each other with a mixture of resignation, respect, and slight loathing.

[Eric runs out from behind the desk and up to the microphone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJKuJe6sRvM), grabbing onto it like a lifeline as he stares out towards the throes of wild clapping and cheering echoing out from the dark.

“Hey, did you all hear about that mural of King Micah in Bright Moon?” He begins, a jovial smile gracing his lips. “Modern Art? More like Modern FART, am I right, people?”

“What mural?” asks Hannibal, uncharacteristically genuine.

Eric turns around, a vibrant question mark practically hanging above his head. “Wh- are you serious? That huge mural they put up right after he died.”

“He’s not dead, man.”

“…what?”

“Do the monologue, I’m not gonna do it for you,” chastises Hannibal.

Eric coughs, sniffles, and turns back towards the camera. “Okay. So, uh… word in the Fright Zone is that Force Captain Catra has a new scorpion suitor–”

“That’s not a real place. Those aren’t real people. You’re just making shit up now,” Hannibal mutters.

“It’s real! They’re real” Eric exclaims with a crazed look in his eyes, turning back to his co-host. “I just saw Scorpia, like, two seconds ago! Why don’t you remember–”

Eric’s vocal cords seize as his veins fill with ice water.

The omnipresent silence mutates into a steady ringing as purple light slowly creeps its way into the edges of Eric’s vision.

Eric’s lips smack open, the sound reverberating in the stale studio air.

“There’s something wrong with the world,” he whispers into the microphone.

Eric André vanishes.

Hannibal stares at the spot where the mic stands.

He delivers his verdict:

“You flaky f[BEEP]ing asshole.”

[ **WE’LL** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uleM9ZNTE34)

[ **BE** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uleM9ZNTE34)

[ **RIGHT** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uleM9ZNTE34)

[ **BACK** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uleM9ZNTE34)


	2. Skit I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While at the portal, Adora encounters a strange man with some important information.
> 
> (TW for Cancer mention)

EXT. THE WHISPERING WOODS -- NIGHT

It’s hell in here. Light spews upwards out of every jagged crack in the ground, trees’ roots rip out of the ground with the sheer force of the wind, the earth sounds like it’s about to shake apart.

In essence, it’s your standard apocalypse. And kneeling at the center of all of it is Adora, crying her eyes out. She’s gripping tightly to a piece of paper – her lifeline to the world that was. A hand, unnaturally black, touches her shoulder.

VOICE (O.S.)

Hey.

Adora turns around and GASPS with fright.

Standing before her is A PATCHWORK ERIC. His body’s a jagged puzzle with the missing pieces filled by pure darkness. He seems to glitch in and out of existence as if reality itself considers his presence a mortal sin.

He’s holding some test results with a giant POSITIVE label stamped in bright red across the paper. [Gentle string music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6NZeN_lH3E) starts in the background.

ERIC

I, uh… I have cervical cancer. I just got the news.

Adora pushes herself to her feet, assuming a defensive position. Eric inches forward, gently, holding his hands out as if going in for a hug.

ADORA

Stay back! Don't come any closer…!

ERIC (pacifying)

It’s not contagious. Listen to me. We’re gonna get through this.

Adora lowers her arms slightly, a quizzical look overtaking her face. Eric takes the chance and gently hugs her. Adora stiffens.

ERIC (soft)

It’s okay.

Adora, confused, slowly wraps her arms around Eric’s back, holding onto him like a buoy in the middle of the ocean.

ERIC (soft)

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.

ADORA (incredibly confused, on the verge of tears)

What?

ERIC (soft)

I’m Matt Damon. It’s not your fault.

Freeze on the moment of tranquility in the midst of the storm as a TITLE CARD FADES IN…

GOOD WILL HUNTING JR.

COMING 2027

ERIC (V.O.)

I’m Matt Damon.


	3. Catra Meowmeow (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A catgirl walks into an interview.

Eric gasps awake at his desk and clears his throat.

“Uhh, ladies and gentlemen, our first guest of the evening… Catra Meowmeow!”

[Raucous yelling and applause](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jDOrc8FmDy4) greet [the teenage catgirl who steps out from behind the curtain](https://youtu.be/RRXui7cY2t0). She appears to be having none of it. Her shoulders quite nearly touch her lowered ears, her breathing is audible from nearly a mile away, her bare feet dig into the musty carpet, and her pupils are slits in a sea of blue and yellow. If Eric possessed a larger portion of sanity, if he knew Force Captain Catra’s reputation, he would fear for his life.

Instead, his only thought was _Oh, great. It’s one of_ _those_ _people._

Catra’s tail wraps around David’s wrist and yanks, sending him to the ground where he shatters into a million porcelain pieces. [The audience claps louder, screams and whistling filling the cramped studio.](https://youtu.be/qHp4D92fJMw)

Eric plasters on a smile as she draws nearer. “You know what they say, boo,” he quips. “No shoes, no shirt, no pants, no underwear gets you a free meal!”

Catra lowers herself into the seat, never taking her eyes off Eric.

The applause immediately stops.

“Hey,” Hannibal calls.

Catra ignores him, not even turning her head.

“I’m starting a band,” he continues, as if she had responded. “You want in?”

Eric leans back in his seat until he’s about to fall.

“So, you’re a bit of a nihilist…” Eric begins.

“Where’s Adora,” Catra interrupts without a hint of emotion in her voice.

Eric somehow leans back further.

“Wha– What’s your– What are your influences? Neitzche? Vattimo?”

“...”

“Machiavelli? He’s- He’s Italian, he said...”

Eric brings his hands forwards, his index and middle fingers of each hand resting on his thumbs.

“‘Eyy, pizza, pasta, pepperoni, I wanna f[BEEP]ing kill myself,’” Eric said in a poor yet somehow borderline offensive imitation of the Italian accent. “National… motto, of Paris. It’s all I ever heard down there.”

Hannibal's face briefly adopted a look of confusion. “Paris– that’s France.”

Eric shifts forward a bit. “Was I- Was I off?”

“Little bit. You good.”

[Cue a slight burst of applause.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLdz29p705s)

“Thank you, Hannibal,” Eric sincerely remarks.

Catra slams her palm down on the desk, her claws digging into the cheap wood as if it were butter.

Eric’s chair topples out from underneath him, sending him straight to the ground. Catra leaps upwards, perching herself on the desk as she stares down at Eric.

“ ** _Where. Is. Adora?!_ **” Catra hisses.

Eric shoots to his feet, a fierce fire raging in his eyes. “What the hell’s going on with you?! It’s like I don’t even know you anymore!”

“You don’t know me! But you know her,” Catra responds, her voice dangerously low. “You have to. She’s got the sword. _She_ was the last person I saw before I ended up here. You’re connected, somehow. So just tell me where she is, and maybe…” One finger trails Eric’s jawline, leaving a small drop of blood behind. “I’ll go easy on you.” 

They glare each other down, neither daring to blink.

Hannibal watches from the sidelines with muted interest as he digs into a bag of potato chips.

Eric leans forwards, his momentum increasing with the help of gravity. Catra jumps back.

“What are you--?!”

Eric faceplants into the desk. It collapses around him, sending a plume of dust into the air. Catra sneezes.

Unfortunately, her face is caught in a freeze-frame.

[**WE’LL** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uleM9ZNTE34)

[ **BE** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uleM9ZNTE34)

[ **RIGHT** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uleM9ZNTE34)

[ **BACK**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uleM9ZNTE34)


	4. Skit II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric has an important question for the new Queen.
> 
> TW: Vomit mention

INT. BRIGHT MOON CASTLE — DAY

Militaristic drumming sounds off in the background as members of the Royal Guard stand outside Princess Glimmer’s bedroom. Almost all of them are rapt with attention — all except for one guard who seems rather dead on their feet. Their spear is gripped rather loosely in their clammy hands, they pant like a dog, and lean forwards at an angle that would make the Tower of Pisa jealous. The other guards notice, but don’t say anything.

The music cuts out as the guard FALLS forwards. Their spear flies from their hand and their helmet follows suit, noisily clattering to the ground. We finally see that the guard is ERIC. His face is CAKED in makeup and his mouth is covered in hastily applied LIPSTICK.

ERIC (soft)

Oh, no.

Eric reaches for the helmet but he loses his footing every time he reaches it. Bits of armor keep falling off with every pratfall, and he attempts to pick those pieces up as he chases after the helmet as a farmer would go after a wild hen.

ERIC (soft)

Oh, no.

Behind him, the guards share slight glances that betray their increasing discomfort.

GUARD (hesitant)

Do you need help?

Eric has now stumbled back to his feet, his hands full with the remnants of his armor. He sways like a man riding a tricycle for the first time, straining with the heavy load of metal.

ERIC

No, I got it. I got it.

Eric drops the helmet again. He bends down and, before he can pick it up, his weight shifts to his side, sending him on a collision course with the door to Glimmer’s room. The guards begin to shout.

ERIC

Igotit,Igotit,Igotit–

Eric CRASHES into the door, somehow COLLAPSING IT. From inside the room, GLIMMER and Adora SCREAM in shock.

While Eric moans in pain, the guards RUSH IN, surrounding him on all sides. Eric pushes himself to his feet, his face bloody, and staggers towards the pair, his eyes on Glimmer, while the guards push him back.

ERIC (slurred)

Hey, I gotta talk to you for a second.

Juliet draws her sword, aiming it at Eric's throat.

JULIET

You will step away from the Queen!

ERIC

I just- I gotta talk to her for a second. It's important.

Glimmer holds her hand up. The guards reluctantly stand down. With that, she steps forwards towards the intruder. Adora stays close behind, her sword in hand, and stares Eric down with malice.

ADORA

Don't try anything stupid. I'm watching you, _Matt Damon_.

Eric rolls his eyes and bends down to Glimmer’s height.

ERIC

Do you have car insurance?

PUSH IN on Glimmer’s confused expression as a drum roll builds up.

GLIMMER

“Car”…?

ERIC

I just- I really gotta sell some car insurance.

FREEZE FRAME on Glimmer. THE SARGEANT LOGO flashes into existence.

OLD MAN (rhythmic)

Buy used cars! Buy then sell! Buy from us and go to–

Cut back to Eric, who THROWS UP.


	5. Catra Meowmeow (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interview continues, hitting some personal places.
> 
> Meanwhile, a man tries to write a song.
> 
> TW: Body Horror

“It’s, y’know, just… really personal. It’s a really personal song for me to write,” Rivers Cuomo mutters, leaning out from behind the curtain. “So if you could keep it down out here, that’s gonna be wonderful for me.” ****

Eric nods. “Yeah, we got it.” ****

“Great. Thank you.” With that, Rivers slinks back into the backstage abyss. ****

Eric turns to the camera. “So, ladies and gentlemen, we are back… with Catra Meowmeow.” ****

The host turns to his guest, his eyes flickering on the multitude of claw marks Catra left on the arms of the chair during the commercial break. She looks no less tense than when she arrived. In fact, she may have even gotten angrier over the course of the break. ****

In spite of popular belief, Eric knows his limits. The incidents with the bear and the baby proved that well enough. Shuffling through his notecards, he happens to stumble across it -- the perfect question. ****

“So. Catra.” Eric glances up to her. “Is that- Is that your name? Real name?”

Catra’s gaze briefly darts over to him, then away. “Why do you wanna know?” ****

“‘Cuz it’s a cool-ass name,” Hannibal replies. ****

Catra sighs. “I didn’t have a name,” she responds carefully, claws digging into the tears and picking at the cotton in the arms. “When I got to the Fright Zone, I mean. Adora called me ‘Catra’ when she saw me and Shadow Weaver needed something to say when she was yelling at me, so it stuck.” ****

Eric nods. “So, Adora? What's up with that? Do you miss her, or...”

“I don’t miss her,” Catra retorts, her heterochromatic eyes snapping over to Eric’s bloodshot ones. “I hate her. She thinks she’s better than everybody. She never…” She swallows, blinking away tears. “She never really cared about me. If she did, she would’ve stayed with me instead of running off with those princesses. What else is there to say?” ****

Eric shifts the cards again. “So, it’s all Adora’s fault. And it’s not your massive Inferiority Complex coupled with your abandonment issues?” ****

Catra clenches her jaw. Her fist curls into a ball. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” ****

“Hey, I don’t write the questions,” Eric explains, flashing Catra a notecard that had nothing but crude renderings of penises drawn on it. “They write it all down for me, I just read ‘em.” ****

Catra’s brow furrows, rage building behind her eyes. “Those don’t look like words,” she hisses out. ****

“I got some words,” Hannibal comments from the sidelines. “You look like… You were part of a pop-punk girl band that died mid-2006. And you were the only one who got a successful career out of it.” ****

On Catra’s irritated sidelong glance at him, Hannibal continues: “And now you think you're better than them, but you know deep down that it's not fair you don’t split a part of the profits. ‘Cause they got you started, you owe ‘em something.” ****

“I wasn’t a part of some stupid band!” Catra rises from her seat and starts pacing, quite literally vibrating with rage. “I get it now! You’re just trying to distract me, make me weaker so the Princesses can take me out! It’s not happening!” ****

Stalking over to Eric’s desk, she leans over it, snarling in his face. “You’re not the one in control here. I am! So you’re going to do what I tell you, and LET! ME! _OUT OF HERE!_ ” ****

Time moves like molasses, with only Catra’s heavy breathing punctuating the suffocating silence in the room. It feels like watching a game of Russian Roulette, but the gun is fully loaded. For the first time, Eric André knows what it’s like to be truly afraid. ****

The feeling passes like a fleeting shadow. He gets back to work. ****

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Eric decrees to the audience, his arms raised to the heavens, “IT’S TIME!” ****

A brief pause. ****

The studio lights shift to a deep red.[A klaxon blares from somewhere off in the distance.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wAqnrpDwaCM) ****

The band clears their podium and Hannibal follows, pulling out his phone and snapping a selfie with the set. Eric gets up from his desk and turns to the bookshelf behind it, frantically pulling book after book off it while muttering “it’s time, it’s time, it’s time, it’s time, it’s fucking- it’s time”. ****

The room began to shake. A pure white light emanates from where the audience is supposed to be seated. Catra’s pulse quickens as she falls flat on her butt, scrambling backward away from the steadily increasing light. ****

Eric climbs on the bookshelf and performs a flying leap onto the top of his desk cracking it in half. Taking a sharpened piece of wood, he slices along his hairline and pulls, blood seeping from the wound near his scalp as he shouts “IT’S TIIIIIIIIME!” to the heavens. ****

Catra shuts her eyes and screams at the top of her lungs. ****

Rivers peers out from behind the curtain again. “Guys-”

[ **WE’LL** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uleM9ZNTE34)

[ **BE** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uleM9ZNTE34)

[ **RIGHT** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uleM9ZNTE34)

[ **BACK** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uleM9ZNTE34)


	6. Skit III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal makes a friend.

INT. THE FRIGHT ZONE

Various shots of Hannibal walking through the Fright Zone and bumping into various cadets and Force Captains. At some point, we switch to Hannibal on the phone.

ERIC (V.O.)

Hey, it’s me. I got arrested, so you have to do the bit tonight. This is my one phone call, I'm begging you–

Hannibal hangs up.

Beat.

HANNIBAL

Yeaaah.

FREEZE FRAME as the [“Eric on the Street” music plays.](https://youtu.be/I7zYRquSfKM?t=2)

LEGEND: FRIGHT ZONE FOOD REVIEW

Cut to Hannibal in the mess hall line.

HANNIBAL

You got any lettuce?

The cook says nothing, but the force with which she plops the gray and brown ration bars onto his tray says enough.

HANNIBAL

Alright.

SMASH CUT: Hannibal sits on a makeshift stool made out of cafeteria trays which rests upon a table, shouting to the rest of the silent cafeteria.

HANNIBAL

This is my chair! Don’t sit in my chair! I’m about to do a Food Review, it’s important! It’s for your benefit! I’m gonna get you healthy!

KYLE (O.S.)

But why did you have to take our trays--?

HANNIBAL

You're not important, shut the f[BEEP] up!

Cut to a busier cafeteria. Hannibal takes a bite of the gray bar.

HANNIBAL

This is the food I would eat if I had to hit some low notes, like--

Hannibal performs a bit of scat autotune, the notes so low they’re almost baritone.

HANNIBAL

Gray one tastes like mango. Even a mango isn’t supposed to taste like a mango.

LONNIE

What’s a mango?

Beat.

Cut to Hannibal eating the brown bar while talking to Lonnie, who sits on another makeshift stool beside Hannibal.

HANNIBAL

...I said, “I’m almost forty, man. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life watching you shit on your desk.”

LONNIE

So… What are you gonna do?

HANNIBAL

Quit, probably. Go to the store, pick up some food. Learn a couple accents. Live my life.

LONNIE

I’ve been thinking of getting out of here, too. The way Catra’s going… She’s lucky she’s not getting put on the next ship to Beast Island.

HANNIBAL

Yeah, she sucks, man.

Cut to Hannibal standing directly over Kyle's tray. Kyle stares up at him nervously.

KYLE

Uh... Hi! I'm Kyle!

HANNIBAL

I don't like your face. Don't talk to me.

Cut to Hannibal outside the Mess.

HANNIBAL

I got kicked out. But I think I can say... Brown one's better.

Freeze and zoom on Hannibal's half-asleep face.

LEGEND: BROWN ONE'S BETTER


	7. Final Interview & Outro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal gets a promotion.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Hannibal Burress said from the desk. "Our final guest of the evening--"

"Hey, hey, hey, whoa, whoa," Eric interrupted, untangling himself from the cheese-wiz-covered curtain. "What the hell is this?"

Not turning from the camera, Hannibal asked, "What?"

Eric gestured towards all of him. "You can't do the show, this is my show! I host the show, see--"

He picked up a plaque reading "The Hannibal Burress Show", showed it straight to Hannibal, then turned it around in his hand and looked at it. Really looked at it..

Eric slowly put the plaque down and walked over to the guest's chair, sitting in it.

"Get outta the chair."

Eric stood.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our final guest of the evening -- Queen Angella!"

[Smooth Jazz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSFKmMaQoNQ) broke out as Queen Angella stepped forth from behind the curtains, her translucent wings folding in on themselves. Despite her evident awkwardness, she still managed to look regal if the cheers from the audience were anything to go by. She sat down into the guest chair, slightly squirming when it squelched and released some excess water onto the carpet.

"I'm sorry," Angella began, almost hesitant to ask. "What is this?"

Hannibal stared but for a moment before responding:

"This is the rest of your life."

Before Angella could ask what that meant, Mark Hoppus threw open the curtains with a flourish. He stood in front of the microphone and began blinking rapidly. Angella turned to Eric, who nodded along with the sweet sounds of blinking.

"Um..."

"Sh, sh, wait." Eric's nodding intensified. "Wait this is the best part."

Mark blinked even faster. Angella tilted her head. After 182 blinks, he stopped and leaned into the mic, breathing heavily.

Without warning, Rivers Cuomo threw open the curtain, ripping off his glasses and casting them aside. Mark held his hands out in a crucifixion pose and Rivers dive-tackled him, the both of them hitting the ground. Neither of them made noise as the two lead singers viciously wailed on each other.

"Yeah," Eric clapped. "Oh, yeah, that's nice. I'm loving that! Band, gimme a little bit of that action!"

[The band began playing the most earsplitting track Angella had ever heard.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_TLTt0aqhG4)

Hannibal shook his head. "Always gotta upstage me, man."

"Kill me," Mara whispered from the drumset.


End file.
